


Stay The Night

by occasionalfics



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionalfics/pseuds/occasionalfics
Summary: You and Peter are old friends...with benefits.





	Stay The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted @ occasionalfics.tumblr.com in April 2018 as a request.
> 
> So this is _before_ GOTG takes place because I’m a big Starmora shipper and I couldn’t really find a way to get between that for present-GOTG that I liked. Also talking about Peter’s solitary lifestyle is sad and makes me want to weep and die so I had to have that here, clearly. But I kinda like the idea that Peter’s not a total asshole all the time and has lots of friends with benefits all over the galaxy like this because, really, he’s still just a lost little boy that can’t learn or grow until he ~finds his family~ but that’s got almost nothing to do with this.

Peter Quill played at being a rogue, but he was really a big softy. He just never let anyone see it by never letting anyone stick around long enough to see it. He preferred to work alone, preferred to wake up alone, preferred to eat, drink, and breathe alone. The only thing he didn’t do alone was dance. You consider yourself lucky that you met him on a dance floor.

He said he liked the way you moved, so you danced all night with him. He bought you drinks, let you take him home, and promised he’d be back in a few months after he left in the morning. You weren’t hurt when he went; plenty of people came and went through your planet, and you were used to dancing with many different people.

But you liked him. He was fun, charismatic, and sarcastic. And he danced _so well_. You wanted him to stay true to his word, to come back and see you, not because you felt like you needed him, but because you enjoyed his company. Sure, he was crude and somewhat sketchy on some topics, but so were lots of people. You’d agreed to be fun, without attachments, and occasional.

He did come back, smiling like he almost didn’t expect to see you in the same club. You were already tipsy, so you yelled out his name and threw your arms around him like he was a long-lost lover. In a way, he was.

He laughed out your name, catching you quickly before spinning you around and into a complicated dance. It must’ve been a Terran technique, but you picked it up after a few beats, following his lead with ease of mind and body.

A few drinks and dances later, he pulled you off the floor and into a dark corner of the club. You followed his lead, tripping over your own feet and laughing about it until he had you against a wall, his greedy fingers in your hair and yours under his leather coat. His tongue was hot and sloppy, but you didn’t mind. You were just glad he was back, because he could out-maneuver any other dancer on the floor.

You let him touch and kiss and lick anything he could reach, but then you decided you didn’t want to share him anymore. “Let’s get outta here,” you told him, pushing lightly on his chest. And he obliged, his smile bigger than the moon outside as he pulled away from you, never letting one of your hands out of his.

You went to your place the last time, but you kind of want to see his ship this time. When you ask about it, he stopped in his tracks and scratched the back of his neck.

“I don’t usually take people up there,” he said. “It’s not…always the most comfortable, I guess.”

Still, you were feeling adventurous. “It’s not like I’m gonna go off planet with you tomorrow,” you said, leaning so your chin rested on his shoulder.

“I’m…It’s kind of a huge mess,” he said.

You shrug. “Sounds like fun,” you told him, biting into your lip to further entice him. All you wanted was a tour, to see where he sleeps when he’s alone. At the time, you didn’t see it as an invasion of his privacy, but you’d end up dealing with it later.

Peter sighed and said, “Guess I’m gonna have to deal with not denying you,” before leading you off in the opposite direction of your apartment. He took you to the ship port, which was full and lively with bright lights and loud music. It almost felt like a club itself, but everything was open, and people were reveling in being alive.

His ship was small, but functional. “Stole this baby from a Ravager,” he bragged as he opened the hatch door.

You cocked an eyebrow at him and asked, “Ravaging from a Ravager?” You smirked at him. “You’ve got some gall, Peter Quill.”

He laughed, then held his arm out to let you on the ship first. You took the steps slowly, so that you wouldn’t trip, and came up into a rather plain room. The walls were a patchwork of different metals in different states of disrepair, but everything looked solid otherwise.

“She gotta name?” you asked, stepping into the round passageway.

Peter followed you up, shrugging out of his leather jacket. He hung it on a hook along the wall and nodded. “Milano, after an actress from Terra.”

You turned in a circle and inspect the area, but there was nothing exceptional about it so far. “So,” you said, “I think a tour’s in order.”

He rose his brows and pulled his head back in an incredulous glance. His hands went up for a minute, then he lowered them as he joked, “You’re kinda pushy tonight, aren’t you?”

You nodded and winked at him, then led the way into another hallway, walking backwards so you faced him. “You agreed to bring me here,” you told him. “Show me around!”

He laughed, then followed you and did as you said. The ship wasn’t large at all, but it was big enough for him. He had a small kitchenette area, which was really just his beer cooler and a table to sit at when he felt like eating alone. The idea made you sad for a brief time, but then you remembered that he liked being alone. You were lucky, you reminded yourself. He liked you enough to show you around his space.

He had a large box of Terran origin placed in the wall just behind the cockpit. When you asked about it, he went to work, pushing buttons and turning levers, even inserting a small back rectangle into it before smooth music played all around you.

“It’s called a tape deck,” he said. “It plays these things called cassette tapes, which have music recorded onto those shiny black rolls in there.” He pointed at the contraption, and you leaned forward to look into it. You watched as the tape played, the shiny rolls turning over into one another again and again.

“But why?” you asked. You stood up and looked at him when you said, “The whole thing just seems wasteful when music is totally digital out here.”

He shrugged. “Terra’s always a little behind the times,” he said. “I’ve had this tape in there for years. Elvin Bishop there’s been keeping me company for as long as I can remember.”

You blinked at him, and suddenly you were bothered by how singular he was. There had to be a reason for him staying so solitary, but you weren’t sure he’d like you asking about that. If music was his only regular friend, then he was worse off than he let anyone think. You sighed at the thought, then held your arms out to him. “Dance with me,” you said, not so much a question as a suggestion.

He didn’t hesitate. A smile spread on his face - so he _liked_ sharing music, you thought - as his arms went around you again. Your hands went to the back of his neck and up into his short curls, and you swayed softly to the time of the music. “I like this song,” you said quietly, so that this Elvin Bishop could still be heard. “It’s soft and easy.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. It was, uh.” He looked down between you, but didn’t stop moving, even as his smile began to fade. “It was one of my mom’s favorite songs.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked to come here, you thought. Clearly this kind of exposure was a lot for him. You didn’t like how solitary he seemed in your head, nor did you like the sad tone his voice had taken with his last sentence. You absolutely didn’t like the way the light in his eyes seemed to die when he spoke of his mother.

But it was too late to make another decision. Peter had let you in, and you were going to show him how much you appreciated that. Even if he never came back to your planet, he would remember you as the caring, understanding person who danced with him on the Milano.

“Clearly she’s a woman of great taste,” you said, and immediately his head shot up. His smile returned, though less bright now, and he nodded.

“She was,” he said softly. The song came to a close, and he pulled you toward him until you were flush against one another. “You wanna move this to another room?” he asked.

Instead of answering, you kissed him. You were comfortable going slowly, still in time with the song, but he seemed to have other ideas. One of his hands went to the small of your back, the other to one of your thighs. He pulled that leg up and around his hips while supporting your back. You braced yourself on one leg, then pulled away from him to jump, wrap the leg around him, and trust that he’d catch you.

He did, and rather expertly at that. His lips went back to yours immediately, and his hands moved around to your ass, only _mostly_ to keep you against him as he started to walk. The music followed you, getting softer and softer as he moved through rooms, occasionally knocking you against walls accidentally. You did nothing but gasp and laugh at him as he stumbled to his room, which really wasn’t that far away. He shut the door behind you with his foot, even though no one else was on the ship and he probably didn’t have to.

He let you down and you looked around his room. It was a _mess_ \- dirty clothes were strung all over the place, there was a pile of entirely forgotten electrical hardware just waiting for a spark in one corner, and you were pretty sure you saw a handful of actual garbage just…sitting on the floor.

“Stars,” you whispered.

He groaned and hurried about the room to do some fast cleaning. “I did warn you,” he said, shoving clothes in a pile and moving it as far from his nest of a bed as he can get it. “And I wasn’t expecting company.”

You sighed, then laughed. “You’re right, you’re right,” you told him. You bent over and found an empty bag, which you filled with some of the garbage before putting it close to the clothes. “You’re also super lucky I’m a nice person.”

He dropped the electrical equipment in his hands and smiled at you - a real, genuine smile that made you believe that he really only played at being a dashing rogue. “Damn straight,” he said, slowly making his way back to you. “Now be nice and get naked.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smirk didn’t fade. Before he’d made it to you, you’d already pulled your shirt off and had undone the fastener on your pants. Without warning, he picked you up and tossed you the few feet across the room to his bed, which was soft and plush as you landed against it. You were pleasantly surprised, and you let him know as much with a soft moan.

“Glad you like it,” he said, putting one knee against each of your sides. “Took it from the Ravager, too.” He winked as his fingers went to your pants; he pushed them down as far as he could, then let you kick them off and onto the floor.

“You really like taking stuff from that Ravager,” you said. “Poor guy’s not gonna have anything left to prove he’s a Ravager soon.” You reached up, put your hands around his neck again, and brought him to you so you could kiss him again.

His hands went up your sides as yours went around and down his shirt. You tugged on the fabric, pulling it up until he had to disconnect himself from you to remove it. He let you take his toned body in with your eyes and fingers, then leaned forward and kissed you again. In a few minutes, he had your bra unclasped, torn from your body, and flung across the room, too. He moved from your lips to your jaw, from your chin to your neck, across your chest and between your breasts. You laughed when his stubble scraped against your tummy, and he laughed back but continued with his trail.

Peter sat back to remove your panties, then placed himself between your legs. He put your thighs over his shoulders and teased little kisses all over your lower abs and pelvis. Your breathing picked up with your heart, the combination making your ears ring and pulse quicken. The closer he got to your folds, the more heated your body felt, and when he ran a single finger up your slit, you sucked in a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. But there was no need for that; he chuckled at your reaction before giving one quick suck to your clit, then he pulled back and reveled in your desperate whine.

“Needy?” he asked.

“Stop teasing,” you responded, putting your hands on the back of his head to put him back where you wanted him. He made obscene laughs against your folds, but went back to work in any case.

You didn’t need a reminder of why you liked him, but if you did, this would be it. He found ways to be fun and funny, despite the obvious loneliness that ate away at him. He seemed to isolate himself, but when he had someone in his grasp, Peter Quill did all he could to make sure they were taken care of. Or maybe it was just that he liked you, too. The way he worked you with his tongue and two fingers inside you only supported that last theory.

He made a mess of you, but that was half of his appeal. You couldn’t stop your thighs from slowly closing in around his head the closer you got, nor did you want to. His fingers curled in you and his tongue lapped faster, and soon you writhed and gasped and moaned out his name, pulling his curls in your tight grip. Without much warning, you came, shaking with each intense contraction around his fingers. He sucked up every bit of the juices that flowed from your core, groaning in approval the whole time.

He helped bring you down slowly, then removed his fingers from you before leaning back on his heels. You rubbed your face with one hand and giggled, but when you glanced at him, you saw how blown out his pupils were. He looked serious, which wasn’t something you were used to, but you said nothing of it. Besides, he chuckled and leaned over you, bringing his glistening fingers close to your face. “Wanna know what you taste like?” he asked.

You nodded before you even thought about your answer, and then opened your mouth for his fingers. A mostly salty flavor filled your senses, but there was a sweeter, less-fleshy taste in there too. You moaned against him and wiggled your hips - if you hadn’t been turned on before, you _definitely_ were now. You tried to show him how much by twirling your tongue around his fingers, sucking any bit of you from his skin until he was satisfied.

When he removed his fingers and went to take his pants off, you sat up and rested your weight on your palms. “I taste pretty good, if I do say so myself,” you said with a shrug and a smirk.

Peter rolled his eyes, but returned your smile. He shed his belt, pants, and boxers, and you saw how hard and ready for you he was. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I agree,” he said, coming to lean over you again. You tilted your head to meet his lips halfway, pushing your tongue through his lips to share the last remnants of you that there might be.

He pulled back shortly after and, in a handful of blurry motions, put both of his hands on your hips and turned you over - earning a loud squeal from you. He put one leg on either side of you, then moved his hands to your ass, massaging gently as you tried to peek at him over your shoulder.

“Getting creative, I see,” you teased.

His eyes met yours again, and his smirk returned. “Sure am, babe,” he said, reaching down to bring his cock to your dripping folds. You bit your lip and pushed back against him, lifting your hips from the bed. “You really are needy,” he shot at you, but all you did was stick your tongue out at him and push more. His head poked at you, and you shut your eyes.

“C’mon, Peter,” you cooed, wiggling your hips. He grunted in response, then stroked himself from your clit to your entrance before finally thrusting in. Your mouth dropped open as you moaned and started to fall forward, but Peter caught your hips and kept you to him, pushing further in until he bottomed out.

“God you feel so good,” he sad all at once, like it was one word instead of five. He took a moment to let you adjust, then pulled back and almost all the way out before plunging back in again. He set a reliable pace at first, his hands tightening on your hips and pulling you to him more and more, filling more of you than you expected. You reached your hands out in front of you and grabbed onto his sheets, pushing to help him go even deeper. You moaned loudly, aware that no one else was around to hear, and rolled your hips against him.

As he picked up speed, he reached around you until his fingers found your swollen clit. He rubbed harsh circles into it, and you yelled out in response, feeling another orgasm just over the horizon. Your pulse pounded in your wrists as you gripped his sheets tight enough to rip them to shreds - if you tried, that was. You lowered yourself until you were leaning one hand, the other reaching back for one of your stiff nipples; you rolled the bud between your fingers, trying to mimic his fingers on your clit without much success. You didn’t care, though, because you were close already, and when you told him so, he grunted and said, “Me too, babe.”

You came first, tightening around his cock as it continued its thrusts. Your hips bucked involuntarily against him, driving him deeper until he came soon after you. You felt his come fill you up so much that it dripped down the inside of your thighs in little stripes. He pushed in once more, then collapsed above you - but he caught himself, too, bracing his hands on your hips and his forehead against your shoulder.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, his stubble scratching your skin gently.

You giggled before pulling yourself off of him. Since you gave him no warning, he fell completely over you, knocking you off your knees and flat onto your stomach. Neither of you moved for a few minutes, but then he snaked an arm across your waist and pulled you flush against him.

“You wanna stay the night?” he asked.

You hadn’t thought he’d kick you out or anything before, but his question made you wonder if he would have. But then you reminded yourself that he might just be asking out of courtesy, perhaps making sure you were comfortable staying at his place. So you opened your eyes and nodded softly. “If you don’t mind,” you said to him, reaching back to run your fingers through his sweaty strawberry-blond curls.

He shrugged, then yawned. “I’m too tired to care,” he said, and for a minute, you thought he was serious. Clearly he had attachment issues, but he didn’t need to be rude about it, you thought. But then he winked at you and tugged you as close as you could possibly get. “‘Sides, I kinda like you.”

You rolled your eyes, then turned away from him without removing your body from his. You tangled your legs between his and pulled down a pillow for yourself. “I’m too comfy to move,” you mumbled. “And I kinda like you, too.”


End file.
